


OMG, look at those--rocks

by AristaStarfyr



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Shibari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristaStarfyr/pseuds/AristaStarfyr
Summary: Here's a little something off the top of my head.  Sorry for the grammar.  Apparently grammarly and my gmail are not playing nice.  Hopefully I fixed it.Want to see the second part?  Comment and let me know!Want to see the commission?  Comment and let me know!The more who comment, the better your chances are in getting the part two!This piece was inspired by Sherenelle!  Your works are awesome and I don't think I've done your take on the guys justice.





	OMG, look at those--rocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherenelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherenelle/gifts).



Coming out of _any_ drug-induced haze was hell. He _knew_ he'd been drugged but figuring out how and why was extremely difficult. Whatever they used on him worked really well with his mutant composition and had he been more coherent, he would probably be impressed. Right now he was fighting the dry mouth, grogginess and the odd sensation of being cradled. It wouldn't have been weird if he had been recumbent but he was mostly upright (once he gained enough of his faculties to realize that.) Upright and in some weird position. Seated but not quite, arms splayed out yet resting comfortably. Feet touching together yet his legs were supported completely--there was no chair that he could discern or floor or wall that he could feel. 

Shredder was getting crazier and crazier with his imprisonment ideas.

The problem with coming out of the haze was that moving would indicate to his captors that he was awake. For now, he had a very slight advantage. While his eyes were closed and his breathing was even, he could try and gather as much information about the place he was in before they started the experiments. There would always be weapons for a ninja in any environment, he simply needed to be resourceful and adaptable. The first thing he noted was the overwhelming scent of cedar. Was he in a paper warehouse? Some sort of milling facility? His stomach sank with the notion that he might have no longer been in New York. Did he _know_ of any paper or wood processing plants in the city? Maybe out by the docks...It was hard to tell with the sharp, overpowering scent of red pine and aspen. But at least he knew it was natural pine and not pine-sol. He wasn't sneezing...yet. But he was starting a cramp in his leg. The desire to stretch was quickly becoming a need greater than the need to be still and observe. He was never the best turtle for patience. All he needed to do was pretend that he was still unconscious and just shifting in his sleep. No harm, no foul!

"Aw, fuck!"

When he tried to shift it felt like a vice was squeezing all of his pressure points all over! Instinct took over and he struggled, fighting the ever-tightening constrictions on his body. Every muscles and tendon protested at the abuse, making him try and fight the constrictions that much more. The tightness was starting to get to him; it wasn't that as he struggled more, the pain would necessarily increase as the logic that something needed to get and yet it _wasn't_ was confounding him.

A good five minutes later and he finally relented, head almost hanging as he panted roughly. It took another round of struggling and rest to realize two things; His gear was gone (so trying to get his fingers to work a hidden rasp out of his wrapping was nil} and when he stopped struggling, the nagging, achy pressures disappeared and all that was left was the cradling effect. At this point, he had made enough of a commotion that feigning sleep was now impossible. Open eyes, time.

The mutant was vaguely surprised by the fact that the room-- or wherever he was--was encased in a soft, flickering glow. About four feet off the ground on the far wall was a shelf or mantle of some sort, and all along the far wall was a shelf or mantle of some sort and all along the far wall was a continuous line of lit candles. Why hadn't he smelled the wax and burning wicks? Right. Cedar. Glancing down, he noted that the floor of his prison was lined in cedar shavings. Immediately his mind went to 'animal bedding.'

"What the shell is goin' on?!" His voice was normally gravelly and rough but the drugs had made it sound even huskier than normal. What he wouldn't give for a decent drink right about now! "Why da hell ya got me locke dup?" He just barely caught the slight echo of his voice as it bounced around the walls. The slightly tinny sound made him suspect shipping container. A thought struck him and he fell silent and completely limp. He needed to listen and feel the air, so to speak. Was he swaying? Was in on the water or in a moving vehicle? There was a definite feel of suspension but he didn't note any movement. As he was waiting for some sort of clue as to how he was trapped, he had begun to notice how he was tied up. Tan rope in a series of knots and twists encased his limbs. Normally he would expect thick coil of rough rope coiling around his body as if it were some snake, constricting his movements and breathing but the pattern looked more like blood vessels. 

That was disturbig.

The knotwork wasn't like anything he had seen before. Was this supposed to keep him immobilized? It really didn't look like it. The lengths of rope wrapped around his muscles and layed in the divets as if the rope was meant to showcase what he worked so hard to build. And the knots seemed random. They didn't appear to hold multiple pieces of rope but it was a few pieces of rope knotted here and there as if to change the rope's direction.

"Like a web," he mused, grumbling softly. He was a fly, caught in a web.

The turtle grit his teeth, straining against the bonds with a new strength as he tried to pee through the darkness. His captor was here somewhere. He wouldn't be surprised at all ifStockman had made a cyborg spider body to match his web capture effect. The knots put pressure in places that made him uncomfortable. The rope caging his quadriceps held knots in areas he recognized as various pressure points they all knew. He couldn't see the knot covering what Donny would call ''perfect spot no. 8'' but tensing the muscle there made him feel the pressure give way to the familiar ache that preceded the endorphin rush and relaxation that was felt when the tight muscle had the bunched up fibers massaged.

_Shit._

He had to force himself to relax. Whoever decided to knot up the rope knew what they were doing. Did Stockman have Donny's patience to research that? Would he have Leonardo's dedication to perfect it? When he relaxed, he could feel how the trap supported and cradled him. What if all of his brothers were in a similar trap? There was no way Michelangelo could be patient and persistent to get out of the trap like this.

Hell, did _he_ have the patience nd persistance to escape from it?

Raphael was stuck considering his predicament. Panicking was _not_ an option. There was a very real possibility that his brothers were in similar situations. Either he would be rescued or he would do the rescuing. Assuming he would be the one to save his brothers, Raph tried to relax and think about the current situation. While he could see some parts of himself, he could not see how he was suspended from the ceiling. The ropes were restraining that movement. He _could_ look down and maybe a little to the left and right but not enough to really see what was going on. Grumbling a bit to himself, he concentrated on listening _inwards_. His senses were going haywire with the flickering lights and cedar smell. Time to trust his gut. Equilibrium stated that he was tipped at an angle, head farther out than his legs. Raph was far enough forward that he could distinctly feel the ropes that ran along the grooves of his plastron. He could feel smaller knots at certain junctions in the grooves. Since his plastron was mostly immobile he figured that his captor wanted to put some continuous torture on him. The knotwork wasn't painful but it wasn't exactly comfortable, either. Looking to the left and right had him noting that his arms were stretched, palms upwards with his fingers held back with rope like he was holding bucket handles on his last knuckles. Trying to curl his fingers into a fist was impossible. The network of ropes sort of reminded him of fishnet stockings and he grunted. Tracking the rope, he noted that once away from his body, they coiled and knotted together not like a web but more like roots. So he was suspended from the _ceiling_? And--what the hell- those were _rocks_ caged in knotted rope above him! He estimated those mini boulders to be around thirty points each. Not enough to really concern him injury wise but the creep out factor was fairly high. How the hell did this guy do that while Raph was still out cold?

"Comfortable?" 

Raphael's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice. Damn that cedar! He'd been watching the mutant struggle and try and figure the trap out the entire time and Raph had no clue he was there! And there hadn't been a door opening or any other sound or light to indicate that a door had opened. That meant that the _bastard_ had been watching him the entire time! The voice had come from behind him and he snarled, trying to whip his head around to glare at his jailor. The ass had probably been gloating that the almighty Raphael hadn't been able to escape from this stupid maze of rope. "Let me go, you prick!" 

"Not yet." The voice was amused. The almost carefree tone only enraged Raphael even more. "I spent many hours on my masterpiece; it's only fair that I enjoy it for as long as possible." A low chuckle came from behind him when Raph growled and fought again. "That impatient to get going?" 

"Fuckoff!" Spitting mad, Raphael had to force himself to relax before the bonds became too painful. The mutant was seething, the emotion so much more vivid because he couldn't face his captor. "Let me go an' no one has to know about this." 

"Who were you planning to tell?" The feigned curiosity made Raph's jaw snap shut. In truth, he couldn't tell _anyone_. They wouldn't understand. He jumped when he felt a hand touch the back of his thigh. "Hey!" 

The protest was rewarded with a slap. It sounded much worse than it felt but the surprise smack had Raph yelping. Instinctively he tried moving his tail closer to his body and realized with a growing dread that he couldn't. _The asshole had tied up his tail!_

"Yelling is not acceptable unless it's my name." The superiority tone made Raph's blood boil and he growled. Then the tone turned sharp. "Are you going to misbehave again?" 

"Fuck off, ya power hungry--OW!" Another smack, this time sharper and with something that wasn't a hand. The contact landed on his inner thigh and he strained to close his legs to soothe the sting. He couldn't with the way he was tied up. The pulsing throb lingered in the area and Raph realized with growing dread just _why_ he was tied up. The positioning was ideal for-- 

"If you want to get started now, I won't say no." 

__Shit_._


End file.
